Twist of Fate
by Ace of Hearts
Summary: She's a beautiful WWE Diva. He's a dashing rock frontman. Everyone thinks they're a pair made in heaven. But love works in strange ways. NOT A HARDYZ FIC!
1. Chapter One

**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own anything! If I did, I'd be off on some warm beach in the Bahamas, soaking up the sun and sipping strawberry daquiri, instead of freezing my ass off in my pathetic little room, popping aspirins and hacking away at my worn keyboard. 

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Well, after reading all those complaints about how every other romance fic you see is a Steph/Y2J one, or how there's no original pairings, or how it's always the same couple over and over, I've decided that, for my first ever attempt at writing a serious romantic WWF fic, I'm not going to risk getting accused of writing about the same pairing, and took a wild gamble by pairing up a WWF diva with someone who's not even _in_ the WWF! -_- Hope you enjoy, anyway. And for those of you who can't guess who it is after this first chapter, I'll reveal his identity by the second installment of the ficcy. ^_^ 

**AUTHOR'S NOTE NO. 2:** This is in no way, shape, or form a Hardy Boyz fic! I just happened to like the name _Twist Of Fate, _that's all. That, and it all ties in with what will happen later on in the story. I don't even like the Hardys; I don't have anything against them, but you won't exactly find me running around calling myself Jeff Hardy's Babe, or Matt Hardy's Gurl, or Mrs. Matthew Moore Hardy, or whatever! They're fun to watch in the ring, and I suppose to some girls they're sort of eye candy, but seeing as how every romance fic seems to be either Steph/Y2J or Hardy/Mary Sue, I figured this section didn't need _yet another_ Hardy Boyz fic. 

* * *

Chapter One

* * *

**She wears a coat of color**   
**Loved by some, feared by others**   
**She's immortalized**   
**In young men's eyes...**

* * *

Trish Stratus hurried through the hallways of the arena, making a beeline for the temporary creative office that Stephanie McMahon had set up to go over some last-minute script changes. Contrary to popular belief that the two shared real-life heat (it must have been that famous feud leading up to their 2001 No Way Out match up; the two beautiful divas had done such a convincing job that they hated each other, a lot of clueless fans had actually believed the two were always down each other's throats), Trish was actually very good friends with the curvaceous princess of sports entertainment. The twenty-six-year-old blonde bombshell had a match up later that night against the reigning Women's Champion, Jazz--something she was both looking forward to and dreading at the same time--and she was anxious to know how the match was supposed to go. Specifically, how many hard bumps she would have to take. It was always a thrill wrestling with Jazz; she was one of the most athletic wrestlers--not just woman, but wrestler--in sports entertainment. But she also had a way of inflicting pain on her opponents. Hell, the way she dished out a beating, Jazz made Jacqueline look all sweet and innocent in the ring--and that was saying something. Needless to say, Trish was reasonably worried about how her match up with Jazz was supposed to go. Did Stephanie expect her to take most of the beating? She sure hoped not. 

Trish glanced at her watch, and noted anxiously that there were only three hours left till showtime. Three hours until the Superstars went live with WWF Raw. That didn't give her a lot of time to speak with Stephanie, go over her match with Jazz, and warm up before the show, so Trish increased her speed. Since she had her eyes fixed on the crystal face of her watch, and since she was practically sprinting through a fairly crowded hallway, it wasn't long before Trish collided with someone. She let out a grunt, as she smacked full force against a man's chest, and was knocked back a couple of feet. She would have probably fallen rather unceremoniously on her sequined behind, too, had someone not reached over and quickly grabbed her wrist, helping her regain her balance.   
"Whoa," a rich male voice spoke up, "are you okay?"   
Trish's gaze was fixed on the floor as she rubbed her forehead with the heel of her hand.   
"Yeah," she started to say, her eyes traveling upwards to meet the young man's face. She promptly froze, as she took in the sight of his chiseled physique, long brown hair, and boyish good looks.   
"Wow," Trish murmured, speaking more to his magnificent shoulders and chest packed into a classic white tank top, "you're fine." She suddenly realized what she had just said, and quickly shook her head.   
"I mean, _I'm _fine," she quickly corrected herself, a blush beginning to stain her cheeks. "I'm fine. As in me. Not you. I mean, not that I'm saying you're not fine. I mean..." _What the hell am I doing?_ Trish thought to herself in dismay, as she quickly clammed up to prevent any more embarrassing blabber from escaping her lips. The young man responded with a charming smile, an amused glint in his beautiful brown eyes, as he said, "Glad you're all right." And he started to leave. 

"Wait!"   
As soon as he turned around, Trish started mentally kicking herself, wondering why she'd even called out to him.   
"Yeah?" he asked pleasantly, and waited patiently while Trish tried to think of something intelligent.   
"Um...I don't think I've seen you before. Are you, like, from the developmentals or something?" _Because with that physique, you can't possibly be a cameraman, _she added silently to herself.   
"Oh, I don't work here," the young man replied, much to her disappointment, although she didn't quite know why. To take her mind off her thoughts, Trish extended one hand, and said, "By the way, my name's Trish Stratus. Sorry for bumping into you like that." The young man shook her hand, a pleasant smile on his handsome face.   
"I'm Scott," he spoke. "And it was nice meeting you, but I've really got to go."   
Trish realized that she'd held on to his hand for a little longer than necessary, and quickly let go, a blush staining her cheeks.   
"Sorry," she mumbled.   
"Bye," Scott waved, and walked away. 

As soon as Scott had disappeared from sight, Trish reluctantly resumed her trek toward the creative offices. Just what exactly was she doing, looking at other guys, anyway? After all, it wasn't exactly like she was on the market, she added to herself, when she saw Matt Hardy approaching.   
"Hey, Trish," Matt spoke cheerfully, giving his girlfriend of nearly eight months a quick peck on the cheek.   
"Hi, Matt," Trish replied, feeling guilty about having checked out Scott with her boyfriend right in the arena.   
"Sorry I can't stay with you; me and Jeff have to warm up for our match tonight," Matt apologized, and jogged off. "Bye."   
"Bye," Trish whispered in a tiny voice, and continued on her way to the temporary writers' corner and Stephanie. _That's it,_ she told herself. _No more checking out other guys, and no more thinking of Scott. _But who could blame her for having noticed that Scott was perfect eye candy? Over the months, she and Matt had begun drifting apart from each other. It wasn't entirely their fault; the two were so busy with their work. That, and they lived in completely different states: Matt and Jeff were neighbors in a smart gated community in Cameron, North Carolina, while Trish had just recently moved from Toronto to Orlando, having followed in Edge and Christian's footsteps in moving from snowy, wintry Canada to Florida warmth. But still, just because they were apart so often didn't create any excuses for Trish to start checking out other guys, no matter how gorgeous they were. _All right, _Trish told herself firmly, as she rounded a corner and saw with relief the temporary office that the booking department had set up in the arena, _from this moment on, I'll forget I even met Scott, and concentrate on Matt--and _only_ Matt._ She reached the office and, out of politeness, knocked first. Someone--the person closest to the door, she guessed--opened it for her, and Trish came in...and promptly found herself face-to-face with the same stranger from the hallway.   
"S...S...Scott," she stammered. 


	2. Chapter Two

*Ugh, I'm not as happy with this chapter as I was with the first one. It just seems so sappy to me. Then again, I _am_ the type of person who fidgets around obnoxiously during romantic scenes (and I don't mean to quote Kurt Angle, but what the hey, it's true, it's true. My friend and I were the only ones laughing like morons during the bedroom scene in _Titanic;_ what can I say, we're weird, and we found it hilarious!). Hopefully, there are people out there more romantic than me and my friend (or my friend and I, if you're an English teacher), who'll enjoy this second installment. So, um...Enjoy! ^_^ 

*Oh, yeah, and before I forget, this is a shout-out to Stupid Lille Whore (I'm assuming you meant to write either 'Little' or 'Lil', by the way): About the very flattering comments you left in your review--and I quote, "If it is Scott Stapp i say ha!!! that guys a fag plus he's married...you poop head," have you ever heard of a little thing called divorce? What an era we live in, huh? If you still don't get it--after all, when you're calling _yourself_ stupid, you must _really_ be brain cell challenged--Scott Stapp got divorced nearly two years ago. So...who's the "poop head" now? 

* * *

**Chapter Two**

* * *

From what one could tell at first glance, there were five people in the room who seemed to be the most important. Naturally, Stephanie McMahon was there, and she had apparently been speaking with the gorgeous young man from the hallway--Scott. Hunter Hearst Helsmley, a.k.a. Triple H, was also in the room, chatting with two darkly handsome young men as if they were old buddies. Trish gave a meaningful look at Stephanie, and the youngest McMahon hastened to explain.   
"Trish, I want you to meet Scott Stapp," she began to introduce the dashing young man standing beside her.   
"We've met," was all Trish said, at the same time that Scott chimed in, "Hey, aren't you the girl from the hallway?" They shook hands anyway, as Stephanie continued.   
"Scott is the lead singer of the rock band Creed," she explained.   
"Yeah, they're going to be doing the newest version of my theme song," Triple H cut in. He then jerked his thumb at the two men he had been talking to. "These are guitarist Mark Tremonti and drummer Scott Phillips."   
As Trish moved in to shake their hands as well, Scott Phillips spoke pleasantly, "Feel free to call me Flip. That way, you won't get me confused with Stapp over there."   
Trish smiled in reply, before turning to Hunter and arching one blonde eyebrow questioningly.   
"Why do you need a new entrance song?" the Canadian diva wanted to know. "Didn't Drowning Pool just finish recording a remix for the _Forceable Entry_ CD?"   
Hunter gave her an incredulous look.   
"Have you actually taken the time to _listen_ to that thing?" he demanded. Trish looked down guiltily at the floor.   
"Um...no?" she admitted in a tiny voice.   
"In that case, let's just say that it didn't quite live up to expectations," Hunter said delicately.   
"Yes, and there's only so much one can take of Triple H's constant whining before she finally has to give in," Stephanie spoke up dryly, as the WWF Superstar and her real-life boyfriend turned around and gave her a mock evil eye.   
"You see, the rather lackluster live Wrestlemania performance didn't exactly impress neither the fans, nor management. So that's why I contacted Creed, which has quite the reputation for its exhilarating live shows, and asked them to perform a live version of _The Game _to replace the Drowning Pool remix," she further explained.   
"Oh, yeah, now I remember you," Trish murmured. "The Desire videos!" And she sang a few bars from _My Sacrifice._   
"Guilty as charged," Scott said, and a smile lit up his face again.   
"So...are you going to perform tonight?" Trish ventured.   
"No, of course not," Stephanie responded before a member of Creed could. "They're just here to get a feel of what a WWF crowd is like. We're using Creed's song _Bullets_ as the official theme song of Backlash, and have negotiated a deal for them to perform that song live at the pay-per-view. It is also there that they will record a live performance of _The Game--_think of it as a refund for the people who ordered Wrestlemania and were disappointed by the lackluster live rock performances."   
"Oh, okay," Trish murmured.   
"We should probably go now," guitarist Mark Tremonti spoke up, and he and the rest of Creed began to walk out the room. Hunter left soon afterwards, but not before giving Stephanie a quick kiss good-bye. 

"So, how are you and Matt?" Stephanie asked cheerfully once the men had left, skimming down a few pages of scripted matches as she spoke. The innocent question brought Trish back to reality, as she stopped looking after the disappearing figures of Creed--or, specifically, Scott Stapp--and focused on Steph's words.   
"We're okay," she lied, conveniently forgetting to mention the fact that lately, she and Matt had been spending less and less time together.   
"Great." Stephanie smiled. "Because believe it or not, _you're_ going to interfere in his and Jeff's tag team match later tonight."   
"I will?" Trish was surprised. Stephanie nodded.   
"Remember that feud with Lita you were supposed to begin a month ago?" she prodded. At Trish's, "Yeah," the brunette McMahon said, "Well, we've finally found a way to start it. See, on your match with Jazz tonight, you already know that you're going to lose that title shot."   
When Trish nodded, Stephanie went on.   
"After the bell has rung, Jazz will continue to beat on you,"--Great, so she _would_ be bumping like hell--"and Lita comes out for the save. Later on, during the Hardys' match up, Lita tries to help Matt but gets pushed off the apron, so you run down to try and return the favor."   
"Okay," Trish nodded along.   
"However, you accidentally cost the Hardys the match up, and Matt ends up taking the brunt of the beating," Stephanie continued. A light dawned in Trish's eyes, as she began to see where the plan was going.   
"Oh, I see. And Lita gets jealous as I'm spending more time than necessary checking up on Matt," she guessed.   
"Right," Stephanie added. "And there we go: Perfect start for a feud between two of the most popular divas in the World Wrestling Federation."   
"Got it," Trish replied, glad that she had a storyline to focus on, instead of her mounting troubles with Matt Hardy and lingering thoughts of Scott Stapp. 

* * *

Trish knew the routine by heart. As soon as her music hit, out she came from behind the curtain, strutting confidently down the ramp, flashing her sultry smile for the crowd, before rolling into the ring and taking off her cowboy hat to toss back a headful of shining, sun-gold locks. The bell rang, as Lilian Garcia announced the contest to be a title match, while Trish took off her silky black coat and tightened one of her elbow pads. And then, as Jazz's music hit and the reigning Women's Champ made her entrance, Trish, in her routine sweeping glance of the crowd to check some of the more creative signs, unwittingly found Scott Stapp and the rest of Creed sitting in the front row, getting a feel of what a live WWF audience was like, and how different it was from their concert crowds. Fortunately for Trish, though, before she had any time to worry about Scott and Matt, Jazz stormed into the ring, and the bell rang, signaling for the blonde Canadian diva that it was time to forget about her mounting relationship woes and start fighting for her life. 

Scott Stapp had to admit to himself that the first time he'd encountered Trish Stratus, he didn't exactly think that highly of her. He had all the respect in the world for the beautiful and intelligent Stephanie McMahon...but Trish, although equally lovely and just as nice, had struck him as one of those silicone Barbie doll types that a company like the World Wrestling Federation used only to draw in horny young males. As the blonde Canadian's match commenced against Jazz, however, Scott noted with growing amazement the degree of athleticism _both_ women--not just the fearsome Jazz, but Barbie doll Trish as well--displayed in the ring. Beside him, Mark Tremonti winced as a particularly rowdy fan attempted to throw an empty beer bottle at the hated Jazz as she exited the ring, and nearly struck him in the process. As the drunken fan got kicked out by Security, Mark turned to the dark-haired lead singer sitting beside him and asked, "So, what do you think? Can we handle these people?" Scott shrugged, a distracted frown on his face. Throughought the course of the match up, Trish had taken a particularly nasty bump--he didn't know the first thing about professional wrestling, but as a person who boxed to warm up, he _did_ know how to spot a move that would hurt like hell--and he was worried whether the petite blonde was all right. Through the course of the rest of the night, Mark noticed that Scott appeared distracted, concerned with something that had occurred earlier. It wasn't until a limping Trish came out to try to help the Hardys and subsequently cost them their match did Creed's dashing frontman finally relax, assured that the sultry diva was, indeed, all right. 

* * *

After showering and changing out of her risqué onscreen outfit into less flashy clothes, Trish toweled her hair off and went to seek out Stephanie McMahon, anxious to hear the head of the booking department's opinions on her performance that night. Passing by Lita (who had given her one mean slap for costing her "boyfriend" the victory, she might add), Trish called out a brief greeting, to which Lita flashed a quick smile.   
"Hey, good job," the flame-haired femme fatale added, slapping her a quick high-five as she headed off to the women's locker room to shower and change.   
"Thanks," Trish replied. "You too." Even though Lita's job had been to slap the taste right out of Trish's mouth for flirting with Matt. 

She finally spotted Stephanie, still holed up in the temporary creative office the bookers had set up, going over some scripts with Paul Heyman. Trish waited patiently until the two were done discussing whatever storyline plans they had for the roster in the upcoming months, before stepping inside. Stephanie glanced up when she heard someone approaching, and a smile of recognition lit up her face when she identified that someone as being Trish.   
"Hey, great match tonight," the youngest McMahon congratulated. Trish smiled.   
"Thanks." And then, anxiously, "You don't think the audience noticed I kind of botched up the Stratusfaction?"   
"Hey, everyone makes mistakes," Stephanie consoled her. "Besides, it's not entirely your fault; I heard Jeff Hardy complain to Rob Van Dam that the ropes were loose tonight. One little slip isn't going to count against you."   
Trish smiled in relief.   
"Good, because even the Internet smarts are praising how I've improved by leaps and bounds from valet to wrestler, and I don't want to go online tomorrow and find several dozen posts about how I've completely dropped the ball," she muttered. Stephanie looked amused by her words.   
"Well, not everyone's going to suddenly become a wrestling goddess overnight..." she started to say. 

Just then, Hunter poked his head into the room, his hair still wet from the shower he'd just taken after a grueling twenty-minute main event match.   
"Hey," he called out to Stephanie. "You ready to go?"   
"Just a second," Stephanie murmured. Trish refrained from asking where the couple planned on heading. She'd just seen Matt Hardy crossing the hall, anyway, and the blonde Canadian quickly peeked out the room and flagged down the dark-haired Hardy brother.   
"Hi, Matt," she greeted, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. "You want to go out and celebrate my costing you your victory?"   
At this, Matt, who had been smiling till then, suddenly froze.   
"Oh, no," he mumbled, as a weary expression began to surface on Trish's face. Matt lowered his head, absently running a hand through his long, dark locks, as he apologized in a rush of words, "Trish, I'm so sorry! I had no idea you expected us to go out; I've already made plans to hang with the guys at a local bar!"   
Trish said nothing, just stood there in disappointed silence as Hunter and Steph watched on warily, wishing they could inconspicuously leave the room somehow.   
"I...I'll cancel...if you want me to," Matt offered reluctantly, although the look in his eyes clearly told his girlfriend he didn't quite want to make that sacrifice. Trish raised her head, and tossed back her shining blonde hair with a casual flip.   
"It's okay," she finally said, forcing a smile. "I mean, it's not like we have to spend every moment together." _Even though we haven't gone out in practically months,_ she added silently in her head, choosing to keep that thought, amongst others, unspoken. A smile lit up Matt's face, as he leaned in for a brief kiss.   
"Thanks, Trish," he said gratefully. "You're the greatest." And he jogged off to join his brother and the boys on their late-night partying. 

Trish stood leaning against the doorframe, watching Matt's disappearing back as he sprinted down the hallway. Just then, she heard a subtle cough, as she turned around just in time to see Hunter with his arm around Stephanie, an uncomfortable look on his features.   
"I'll, um, go wait in the car," he muttered awkwardly, perhaps sensing that it was time for one of those girl talks.   
"Okay, bye," Stephanie murmured, giving him a quick kiss on the lips as her onscreen ex-husband, real-life boyfriend left the room. As soon as Hunter had left, an uncomfortable silence settled in the room between the two women, before Trish quickly cleared her throat and prepared to leave.   
"I should probably go now," she mumbled, avoiding looking Stephanie directly in the eye. "I mean, I don't want to keep you from your night out with Hunter or anything."   
"Trish...are you going to be all right?" Stephanie asked gently, a sympathetic expression on her features. Trish shrugged, before forcing a smile on her face that didn't quite reach her eyes.   
"Sure I will," she assured her friend. "I mean, it's just one broken date, that's all. No need to get melodramatic over it."   
"But I've noticed that you and Matt haven't exactly been spending much time together lately," Stephanie, not knowing how else to say it, spoke up delicately. Trish internally winced; she had been hoping that nobody would notice that.   
"It's okay," she lied, conveniently leaving out the fact that she herself had been worried that her relationship with Matt was going nowhere fast. "Just because we're together doesn't mean we have to spend every single moment with each other."   
"Well, if you're sure..." Stephanie's voice trailed off. She still looked doubtful. Trish faked a smile.   
"Sure I'm sure," the blonde bombshell spoke confidently. 

At that moment, a trio of darkly handsome young men walked past the hallway, and Stephanie flagged them down for a quick good-bye. Trish had no trouble recognizing them as the men of Creed, and she tried to keep her eyes focused on anything but Scott Stapp. She wound up pretending to be fascinated with Mark Tremonti's boots, as Stephanie spoke with the rock band, smoothing out some details about their Backlash performance and the differences between a WWF audience and a Creed concert crowd. Just as Creed was prepared to leave, Scott Stapp spoke up, his words aimed at Trish as he asked lightly, "Hey, are you all right? You took some pretty nasty hits out there," referring to her title match against Jazz and subsequent beating at the hands of a "jealous" Lita for getting too intimate with Matt. _Damn, _Trish silently swore. She had been hoping he wouldn't notice her. Hell, the Canadian diva had been hoping so desperately Scott Stapp wouldn't see her, she'd gone as far as practically hiding behind Stephanie McMahon! Raising her head, Trish forced herself to look at Scott, but fiercely avoided making eye contact, too afraid he might take one look and notice the internal conflict she felt.   
"Yeah, I'll be all right," she stammered. "I just need to get back to my hotel and rest up."   
"Oh, okay," Scott said. He then reached over, pulling something he'd been holding behind his back throughought the whole chat with Stephanie, and handed Trish a little white teddy bear wearing a miniature Kurt Angle shirt and a patriotic American flag baseball cap.   
"I guess you don't really need a get-well care bear, then, but what the hey." He shrugged, flashing a boyish grin as Stephanie's face lit up in delight over the cute little thing and Trish furiously tried to stop blushing. The blonde diva wordlessly accepted the little Kurt Angle teddy bear, as Stephanie asked, "Where did you get this? I know we sell some pretty outrageous merchandise, but to my knowledge, nobody has come up with the idea of WWF care bears--not yet, anyway."   
"Oh, some fan was peddling a whole army of homemade wrestler teddy bears," Scott said casually. "You should have seen the one for...well, I don't know his name, but, you know, huge guy with the mask and the hellfire entrance?"   
"That would be Kane," Trish heard Stephanie say, as she silently hung on to her soft care bear, trying to keep the delighted smile from showing on her face.   
"Well, we've got to go," she heard Scott say, as he and the rest of Creed began to exit the room. On an impulse, Trish reached over and gave Scott a quick thank you hug, catching both the dashing lead vocalist and herself by surprise at her gesture.   
"Thanks," she murmured. "That was really sweet of you, even though I didn't get hurt."   
"You're welcome," Scott replied, flashing a boyish grin before getting ready to leave. "See you two at Backlash, then."   
"Bye," Stephanie called out, smiling as she waved after the rock band. 

Stephanie began to put on her coat, a smile on her face as she and Trish prepared to leave the arena.   
"Isn't he a great guy?" the blue-eyed McMahon murmured, as she walked toward the parking lot to join Hunter.   
"Who?" Trish wanted to know, sounding almost distracted.   
"Scott Stapp," Stephanie replied, as she added, "It was really sweet of him to give you that care bear."   
Trish glanced down at the cute little Kurt Angle bear she cuddled in her arms, letting a sun-gold lock fall into her eyes.   
"Yeah," she murmured. Clearing her throat, she added, "Yeah. He's a great guy..." Her voice trailed off, before Trish finally ventured to say, "There's just one problem with Scott, though."   
At this, Stephanie stopped walking, and instead turned around to stare at Trish.   
"What?" she wanted to know. Trish turned to her friend, a troubled expression on her normally confident features, as she confessed, "I have a huge crush on him!" 


	3. Chapter Three

* * *

**Chapter Three**

* * *

Trish turned anxiously to Stephanie, as she fretted, "I have a huge crush on him!" Had it been any other person who'd uttered those words, the woman known as the Billion Dollar Princess would have more likely than not tripped over a nonexistent crack in the sidewalk and fallen rather unceremoniously onto her face. But Stephanie was no fool, and as soon as she'd seen Trish's initial reaction to Scott, she'd guessed something along the lines of what the blonde bombshell had just confessed. So instead of taking an unplanned and most certainly unwelcome dive into the asphalt, Stephanie simply asked, "What about Matt?"   
"I don't know," Trish fretted, toying around with a strand of sunlight. "I mean, I guess I still love Matt...but it's just that we've been drifting apart recently, and he doesn't seem to care! However, I don't want to just throw away an eight-month relationship over some stupid schoolgirl crush!"   
"Well, the important thing to remember right now is that you still have just a crush on Scott," Stephanie spoke up wisely. "I mean, let's face it: he's young, he's gorgeous, and he's a rock star. Most women seem to have a thing for rock stars, and you're probably one of them."   
"So what are you saying? I'm just like a wannabe groupie or something?" Trish demanded. Stephanie felt like kicking herself for her choice of words.   
"No, no, I didn't mean anything by that," she quickly apologized. "What I meant was that you are feeling neglected by Matt, and then you run into this gorgeous guy who happens to be a rock star and who seems to care about you. It's only natural you get a bit smitten about him."   
Trish instinctively glanced down at the little care bear she cuddled in her arms at the particular comment about Scott caring about her.   
"It's probably nothing to worry about," Stephanie continued dismissively, a confident smile on her face. "I mean, Scott's nothing more than a celebrity crush. You know, like you're dating this wonderful guy, but you still have a stupid celebrity crush on...I don't know, let's just say, Tom Cruise."   
"I...I guess you have a point there," Trish admitted reluctantly.   
"Trust me," Stephanie spoke confidently. "You just happened to meet your celebrity crush, that's all. After Backlash, Scott will be out of your life, and you can start mending your relationship with Matt."   
"You're probably right," Trish admitted. By then, the two had reached Trish's rental car. The Canadian diva gave Stephanie a quick hug, before getting in and strapping on her seatbelt.   
"Thanks for listening to me, Steph," Trish said gratefully. "I'll see you at the house show on Friday, okay?"   
"Kay, bye," Stephanie waved cheerfully, watching as her friend started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. 

She sighed, before weaving through the sea of rental cars toward the one she and Hunter shared. Outwardly, Stephanie had appeared to be the personification of Confidence, as she readily gave advice to Trish on her relationship woes. Inside, however, the twenty-five-year-old princess of wrestling was feeling less than self-assured about her words. What she'd failed to tell Trish was that all three members of Creed--and that included Scott Stapp--lived in Orlando, Florida, the same city Trish had just recently moved to. So, it wasn't technically true that Trish would never even see Scott again after the Backlash live show. Hell, for all she knew, Trish and Scott could end up being neighbors. Stephanie winced.   
"Ooh, that's not going to do wonders for her relationship with Matt Hardy," she murmured to herself, as her and Hunter's rental car finally came into view. It looked like the Billion Dollar Princess, who had just handed out advice to another person a mere five minutes earlier, was going to have to seek some advice of her own. 

* * *

Stephanie glanced cautiously behind her back as she made her way into the women's locker room. She had put in extra effort to make sure that Trish arrived at least half an hour later than the rest of the divas, and it appeared as if her work had paid off. The blonde bombshell was nowhere in sight. Pulling up a chair and sitting down cross-legged, Stephanie suddenly popped a question which caught the other divas by surprise.   
"So," she began, using a tone of voice most commonly found at a slumber party full of thirteen-year-old girls, "who would you rather date: a pro wrestler, or a rock star?"   
Most of the other divas stopped whatever it was they were doing to turn around and stare at their boss in surprise. The only person to speak up without hesitation was Lita, who said confidently, "Put me down for rock star," without even bothering to look up from where she was leaning, tying her shoelaces. 

"I think we need more detail than that, Steph," Molly Holly murmured uncertainly after everyone had gotten in her share of gawking at Stephanie and Lita. Stephanie flicked a long, chestnut lock away from her face, as she swept the other divas in an earnest blue gaze.   
"Well, let's say we have this popular WWF diva--um, we'll just call her...Patricia," she began, internally wincing at the thin disguise she'd managed to spring on the real people's identities.   
"What about Patricia?" Lita demanded, sparing a brief glance or two at the flock of women who had gathered around Stephanie, who plowed on.   
"Suppose she's currently dating a WWF Superstar--we'll call him, um, Matthew." By now she was getting used to the pathetic attempts at covering up the Superstars' real identities. "But lately, the two of them have been spending less and less time together. They're drifting apart, and Patricia's scared because Matthew either doesn't know it, or he just flat out doesn't care."   
"Ouch." Molly looked sympathetic.   
"Right, ouch," Stephanie agreed, nodding. "And now let's say here comes this sexy rock star--we'll call him, um..." Stephanie struggled to come up with a name that sounded like Scott, but when she couldn't, she decided to swipe another Creed member's name. "Um, we'll call him Mark, and Patricia's smitten by him."   
"Uh-oh," Torrie Wilson spoke up, beginning to see where the situation was headed.   
"Now, Patricia's not sure whether Mark's romantically interested in her, but she knows that at the very least, he cares for her well-being--enough to buy her a get-well present after she went through a really brutal match up," Stephanie said truthfully.   
"Aw, how sweet," Stacy Keibler beamed, toying around with a strand of her long, blonde hair.   
"I know, it's totally adorable of him to do that, and now Patricia doesn't know whether she should break up with Matthew to pursue a relationship with Mark, or forget about Mark and try to work things out with Matthew," Stephanie laid the problem out into the open. A stretch of silence followed, during which, presumably, the other divas took the time to think over the dilemma and come up with a plausible solution. 

"I think she should go with Mark." Stacy was the first one to speak up. "I mean, after all, obviously he cares more about her than her actual boyfriend does if he was concerned enough to give her a get-well present when he thought she was hurt, while Matthew didn't do anything about it."   
"Yeah, but Mark's a rock star," Torrie pointed out logically. "You know the kind of reputations they have."   
"No, no," Stephanie hastened to assure. "Um, Mark's in a band that's famous for having a squeaky-clean record when it comes to groupies and late-night partying and all that."   
"Well, is Patricia happy with Matthew?" Molly wanted to know. "Because if there's even the tiniest chance that she can work things out with him, I don't think she should throw away her relationship to chase after a guy who might not even be romantically interested in her."   
"She's got a point there." Torrie nodded wisely. "Or, it could turn out that Mark was just a celebrity crush, and she threw away her relationship with Matthew over nothing."   
"And," Molly added logically, "both Patricia and Mark are in the entertainment business, which means they'll both be traveling a lot. With Matthew, at the very least she can see him when they travel with the WWF together, but if Patricia decides to go with Mark, he's going to be touring on different dates than she will. With Matthew, they'll be able to spend at least two or three days together per week. With Mark, who knows when they might get see each other?"   
Stephanie was nodding along.   
"Maybe," she conceded. "But..." 

* * *

It had been three in the afternoon when Stephanie McMahon had called Trish Stratus on her cell phone to inform the Canadian diva that there had been a slight schedule change, and the house show would begin at seven-forty rather than six o' clock. She had cited some complicated reason along the lines of the Undertaker being unable to make it for the main event due to a leg that had been broken earlier in the morning, and how they went about contacting Kurt Angle from nearby Pittsburgh to take the Dead Man's place, and the American Hero had just gotten out of a traffic jam on the drive to the house show's location in Philadelphia and would arrive at least half an hour late. Naturally, Trish had had no reason to think otherwise, and began making plans for one last trip to the gym. 

Then, Matt and Jeff Hardy had shown up at her hotel room's door, and asked if she wanted to hitch a ride to the arena with them, but that she would have to hurry up because they were already ten minutes tardy. Trish had blinked in surprise, and reminded them that the house show had supposedly been delayed for thirty minutes. When two blank stares met her response, she'd repeated Stephanie's complicated story...to which both her boyfriend and his brother had burst out laughing. Only until they'd propelled her out of the room and toward their rental car did Trish finally realize that there was no half-hour delay, Taker and his legs were perfectly fine, and Kurt Angle was at home, relaxing with his wife. At the time she'd had no reason to suspect a hoax on Stephanie's part. She'd just assumed the youngest McMahon had gotten her stories mixed up. After all, she _did_ seem to be under some stress lately, what with booking an incoming pay-per-view and all. 

Trish hurried along the hallways of the arena, occasionally passing by a familiar face and nodding her head in greeting. She sprinted toward the women's locker room, frantic that she'd just been tardy, especially what with her important match against Lita scheduled for later that night. She arrived, nearly out of breath from having run so hard, and heard the other divas talking from the other side of the door, so loudly that she wondered why she hadn't heard them when she was all the way at the other side of the arena. She shrugged, and was about to walk inside and change into her in-ring gear, when the topic of conversation suddenly caught her attention. Frowning and pausing with her hand mid-way to the door, Trish decided to wait a few minutes and eavesdrop on the conversation. 

"She should go with Mark," Lita's distinctive voice could be heard stating stubbornly. "It's obvious that he's a very caring person, if he was concerned for Patricia's well-being after only meeting her a few hours earlier and exchanging less than a hundred words with her."   
"Yes, but what about Matthew?" Molly debated. "She can't just break his heart to chase after some guy she barely knows."   
"She knows enough about Mark to tell that he's a really sweet guy," Stacy pointed out.   
"That doesn't mean the two of them could work out as a couple, especially when they're going to be on the road all the time, at different times," Torrie argued. "I think she should forget about Mark, and try to work things out with Matthew. At least with him she has a chance at the more normal of the two possible relationships."   
"Oh, what do you know; you're marrying a wrestler, so of course you're going to be pushing for Matthew the WWF Superstar," Lita spoke up dismissively.   
"Okay, so some of you think that Patricia should go with Mark, because he's a sweet guy, and seems to care for her--at least as a casual friend," Trish could hear Stephanie McMahon say. "The others are saying that she should try to work things out with Matthew, because she doesn't know whether or not Mark's even interested in her, and even if he were, the relationship would never work out because they'd be apart too often."   
A stretch of silence followed, during which Trish assumed the other divas were nodding along to Stephanie's words. Her eyes began to narrow, as a number of rather familiar details about Stephanie's story began to emerge, and it wasn't long before Trish had put two and two together and realized just exactly what the Billion Dollar Princess was trying to do. Outraged, Trish prepared to burst in and confront the head of the booking department, but just then Stephanie uttered some words that shocked the fury right out of Trish.   
"But let's say that Patricia and Matthew live in completely different states," she began, while on the other side, Trish was ready to storm in and request a private meeting with Stephanie. "However, Mark, on the other hand, lives in not only the same state, but also the same _city_ as Patricia."   
"Oh," Torrie and Molly echoed at the same time, while Trish, outside the women's locker room, froze in her action, as realization dawned upon her. _Oh, my God,_ she thought silently to herself, _is Stephanie saying that Scott Stapp also lives in Orlando, Florida?_ Trish thought back to the parking lot Monday night, where Stephanie had assured her that once Backlash was over and Creed had finished their first and only performance with the WWF, she would never have to worry about Scott Stapp again, and could instead focus on healing her relationship with Matt. _Never have to worry about Scott after Backlash--yeah right!_ Trish thought to herself bitterly.   
"In...in that case, Patricia should probably consider whether a relationship with Mark could be pursued." Torrie's voice sounded tinny and hollow for some reason, and Trish barely registered the pretty blonde's words.   
"Well, she should probably get to know Mark better before she even thinks about dumping Matthew and chasing after some rock star," Molly spoke up reasonably. 

Trish could take it no more. On an impulse, she burst into the locker room, startling the other divas and nearly sending Stephanie McMahon rocketing right through the ceiling.   
"Trish!" Stephanie looked guilty, like a young child who had been caught red-handed with her hand in the cookie jar. "What...what are you doing here?" 


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

"Yeah, you just missed out on a little game Stephanie has come up with," Stacy, completely clueless as to what was actually going on, spoke up cheerfully. Trish ground her teeth, but somehow managed to force out a big, phony smile that didn't exactly clear away the thunderclouds from her eyes. Her words aimed at the guilty-looking head of the booking department, Trish gritted out, "So sorry I missed that, but I'm sure I got the main gist of it." Stephanie cringed, avoiding eye contact with the furious blonde, as, fake smile still plastered on her face, Trish requested in a sugary sweet voice, "Excuse me, Steph, but do you think I can talk to you..._alone?"_   
Stephanie shot a desperate look at the other divas, but, unaware of the real situation and the fact that their boss might soon be booking the shows on a (albeit quite fancy) hospital bed, they simply returned her panicked look with innocent smiles.   
"Um...why do you need to see me alone?" Stephanie stammered lamely. "I mean, if there's anything you want to say, I think you should say it out in the open...where there's witnesses and everything." 

"Well, if you are going to talk to Steph, I'm afraid you're going to have to do it after the house show," Lita's voice blessedly spoke up, interrupting just as the murderous-looking Trish was about to tear into a hapless Stephanie. "Me and you still have to go over our match, remember?"   
Stephanie was so relieved, she could have fainted right then and there. But not before taking Lita with her by engulfing the sultry, flame-haired diva in a lung-crushing bear hug of immense gratitude.   
"That's right," Stephanie said quickly, as Trish ground her teeth. "And we certainly don't want to disappoint the audience, now do we?"   
Trish gave her a look, as if to say she might have escaped for now, but she couldn't avoid the confrontation forever, before managing to squeeze out, tight-lipped, "I'll see you after the match, then," and stalking out of the room, slamming the door shut with a clang. Stacy winced, before speaking up, "Gee, what's with _her?"_   
"Oh, you know, Matt stood her up for a date," Stephanie said knowingly, making a face as she plucked at the first excuse that came to mind. Stacy looked sympathetic.   
"In that case, I can't blame Trish one bit for being upset," the pretty blonde said, before returning to brushing her hair. 

* * *

Stephanie rounded the corners, glancing worriedly at her watch as she realized that the house show had already ended an hour earlier, which meant that Trish was free to "have a chat with her". Or, in other words, beat the living crap out of her. The striking brunette hurriedly increased her speed, making a beeline toward the men's locker room, knowing that it was safe for her to burst in since Hunter was surely the only one left...before promptly smacking rather unceremoniously right into a closed door.   
"Oof!" Stephanie winced, as she absently rubbed her sore forehead. Irritated, the woman known to the public as the Billion Dollar Princess frowned, before grabbing the doorknob and twisting it hard.   
"Damn it!" she growled to herself, realizing that the room was locked, and would offer no temporary sanctuary from a certain furious Canadian diva. Stephanie wasn't sure she wanted to dwell on that particular thought for long, and resorted to the only thing she had left: she started banging childishly on the locker room doors, yelling, "Hunter, I know you're in there! Hurry up!" A long stretch of silence answered her shouts, before Hunter, his dark blonde hair hanging against his face in wet locks and with a towel wrapped hastily around his waist, reluctantly cracked open the door a few inches.   
"Jeez, Steph, I know you don't like to be kept waiting, but can't you at least wait until I'm done showering?" Hunter grumbled, tightening his towel in case someone should round the corner and see more of him than was appropriate. Stephanie knew that she couldn't exactly tell him the real reason as to why she was in such a hurry to get the hell out of the arena, so she quickly fired off an automatic apology, before stammering lamely, "Well, um, don't take too long, 'kay? I'll...um, I'll be waiting for you in the car," adding under her breath, "Where it's safe."   
Hunter arched an eyebrow.   
"Since when were you so anxious to leave?" he wanted to know, absently brushing a stray lock of wet blonde hair away from his eyes while using his other hand to keep his towel around his waist and not at his knees.   
"Since I've become a wanted woman by Canadian authority," Stephanie quipped, knowing that her boyfriend had no idea just how true her words were. She didn't have time to hang around any longer, and quickly mumbled a good-bye, before rushing off to the parking area. 

So far, so good. Trish was nowhere in sight, and Stephanie was almost out of the arena...   
"Hey, there, Princess," a dismayingly familiar voice spoke up sarcastically. "Mind if we have a quick chat?"   
Stephanie cringed, already knowing who had uttered those words as she slowly--very slowly--turned around to meet the speaker.   
"Hi, Trish," she stammered nervously, tucking a strand of chestnut-colored hair behind her ear. "Um...I don't think there's really anything to talk about; I mean, granted, there were a few botched up spots, but hey, that's what house shows are for, working out the chinks before the bouts are played out on live TV and everything..." Stephanie had to bite her lower lip to keep from babbling. Trish, meanwhile, continued to wear what looked like an almost sadistic smirk to the stunning brunette, as she gritted out through clenched teeth, "Just drop it, Steph! We both know I'm not here to talk about my match with Lita."   
"Well, then, I really have no idea what you're talking about--" Stephanie stammered lamely, furiously avoiding eye contact. Trish made an impatient noise deep down her throat, as she apparently tired of playing mind games with Stephanie and instead burst out, "What the hell were you doing? You might as well have just announced on WWF.com, _Trish Stratus Is Breaking Up With Matt Hardy To Chase After Creed Frontman Scott Stapp--_which, by the way, is _not_ true--and asked the readers to e-mail in their advice to Dear Stephanie!"   
Stephanie cringed under her blonde friend's scathing verbal assault.   
"I know, I know, I did an awful, horrible, terrible thing, and I'm really sorry about it," she squeaked out a rush of apologies, before batting the McMahon puppy eyes and adding, "I was only trying to help."   
Trish was silent, which Stephanie took as a sign to continue.   
"Besides," she went on, starting to regain her confidence, "you heard what the other divas had to say. Your chances with Scott aren't exactly that terrible, especially since you two could be neighbors."   
Trish opened her mouth, about to reply, then seemed to change her mind and hesitated, remaining silent while her friend rambled on.   
"And, your relationship with Matt is going nowhere--over the last three months, you two have barely spent, what, four days together?" Stephanie arched her eyebrows questioningly.   
"Seven," Trish spoke up defensively, but her attempt to cover for her slowly degenerating relationship was more half-hearted than anything.   
"Same difference." Stephanie brushed aside her minor error. "And anyway, just think of how cute you would look on the arm of Scott--especially at the Grammy's or something like that."   
Not even meaning to, Trish smiled in spite of herself at a mental image of herself and Scott, together, before quickly realizing what she had just done and turning her dreamy smile into a stern frown.   
"Still, it's not right for me to be fantasizing about a rock star when my relationship with Matt is still salvageable," she ground out stubbornly...except this time, she sounded almost as though she was trying to convince herself more than anyone else that there was a possibility for a future with Matt Hardy.   
"Okay, if that's what you want," Stephanie backed off, raising her arms as if to say, You win.   
"That's what I want," Trish retorted firmly, her voice betraying her by quivering on the last note.   
"Just to let you know, though, you and Scott would be perfect for each other," Stephanie added, as she prepared to leave. "Stacy and Torrie think so, too."   
Trish zeroed in on the Stacy and Torrie comment, and snapped up in alarm.   
"What do you mean, Stacy and Torrie think so, too?" she demanded dangerously, as Stephanie began to look uneasy, realizing that she'd just made a slip-up.   
"Um, I guess I accidentally kind of told Stacy about the whole thing with Scott, and Stacy always tells Torrie everything, and vice versa, since they're best friends," Stephanie finally admitted. Trish looked like she didn't know whether to wring Stephanie's neck or wish to disappear down a crack in the floor--or both.   
"Stephanie, how could you--!" she began to lament.   
"Hey, that's only two people who know, and at least they will fully support your decision if you _do_ decide to break up with Matt and pursue a relationship with Scott," Stephanie hastened to assure. An icy stretch of silence followed her words, until she could take the deafening silence no longer, and ventured to squeak out, "So, are you gonna?"   
"Am I gonna what?" Trish demanded irritably.   
"You know, pursue a relationship with Scott?" Stephanie asked. Trish glared at her.   
"I might think about it," she finally admitted, tight-lipped. Smoothing down her shining gold locks, the blonde bombshell added, "In the meantime, however, I'm afraid I'm going to be occupied with something else."   
Stephanie's eyebrows shot up.   
"With what?" she wanted to know.   
"Well, if you must know," Trish began in that maddening tone of voice, "I have a date tonight."   
Before Stephanie could object and voice her thoughts on that particular piece of news, she quickly added, "With _Matt._ You know, my boyfriend whom I haven't broken up with? Which, by the way, makes it eight days together out of a possible ninety...Hey, it could be worse." And with that, Trish breezed out the door and toward the parking lot in search of Matt Hardy, leaving an openmouthed Stephanie staring after her. 

* * *

Trish and Matt were seated at a cozy table for two in a dark corner of a charming local seafood restaurant, enjoying a candlelit dinner and some time together for a change.   
"I'm really glad you gave me a second chance after Raw earlier this week," Matt was saying, looking as handsome as ever with his long, dark hair freshly washed and combed down. Trish took a sip of champagne, before managing a genuine smile and saying, "Hey, I understand. I mean, just because we're a couple doesn't give me the right to take time away from your friends."   
Matt burst into a grin at her words.   
"Trish, you're the most wonderful woman I've ever had the luck of dating," he said, and Trish began to feel a burst of hope for her waning relationship, as she leaned back in her seat and gazed at her boyfriend. He _was_ a great guy. Granted, he often had more teenyboppers dangling on his arms than she cared to remember--but then again, it wasn't as if she wasn't exactly without her own admirers. And besides, at least Matt's screaming female fans didn't make wolf calls whenever he walked down the ramp, or scream such flattering comments as, "Show us your boobs!" 

And anyway, if Matt, as a wrestler, already had a hoard of female admirers, Trish could only imagine how many women lusted after rock star Scott. Trish shook her head abruptly at the sudden change in topic. She hadn't even realized that, for the past five minutes, she'd been paying zero attention to her boyfriend, and had instead lost herself in her own thoughts. Besides, how had she suddenly switched gears from Matt to Scott, anyway? However, now that the subject had been changed to the rock frontman, anyway, Trish suddenly realized that Matt Hardy's long, dark locks very subtly reminded her of Scott's own shoulder-length chestnut hair. Granted, the only thing the two had in common was the fact that they both had long hair...which would, in turn, link Matt and Scott to Chris Jericho, Rob Van Dam, and Jeff Hardy, amongst the many other attractive men who sported long hair. But now that the comparison had been brought up between Scott and Matt, Trish realized that, in the dim light, if she squinted a little--or a lot--and sort of mentally cut off an inch or two from Matt's long, dark locks, she could sort of visualize Scott sitting there, smiling sweetly at her from across the table.   
"...so, what do you think?" Matt was saying. Trish blinked, realizing that she'd spaced out again.   
"Trish?" Matt asked, hints of worry beginning to surface on his voice. Trish shook her head to clear it of its previous thoughts, before clearing her throat and raising her eyes to meet Matt's.   
"Yeah?" she asked, quickly realizing that making eye contact with her boyfriend at the particular moment hadn't exactly been the best of ideas.   
"Trish, are you all right?" Matt asked, looking concerned at the state of quiet distraction his girlfriend had seemingly sunken into.   
"Yeah, I'm all right," Trish stammered guiltily, trying to clear away mental images of a romantic dinner with Scott replacing Matt as the charming date sitting across from her. "Just a little sore from all the bumps I took in the ring."   
"Oh, okay then." Matt still sounded uncertain. "If you're sure you're fine..."   
"Of course I'm fine," Trish said, then made the biggest mistake of the evening by uttering the words that would send her relationship crashing down around her. "Don't worry about me; I'm perfectly fine, Scott."   
"Scott?!" 


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

"Don't worry about me," Trish told her concerned-looking boyfriend. "I'm perfectly fine, Scott."   
"Scott?!" Matt's voice rose several notches, as he zoomed in on her huge slip-up, and pounced on it like a hunter moving in for the kill. "Did you just call me Scott?"   
Trish blinked, dazed, as in the back of her mind she wondered why her boyfriend had been lavishing her with extravagant praise one moment, then appeared ready to pick a fight right in the middle of an intimate little restaurant the next. And then she remembered the name she'd accidentally uttered that had made said boyfriend so upset, and nearly kicked herself for her slip-up. Without meaning to, she'd been daydreaming that it was Scott rather than Matt sitting across from her, telling her she was the greatest girl in the world and all other romantic sayings. Which wasn't such a good thing to do in the first place, especially when she was supposedly trying to rebuild her crumbling relationship with Matt. But to let herself get carried away enough to actually say Scott's name out loud when referring to her boyfriend...Trish mentally wondered whether Matt would throw a temper tantrum or just quietly throw his napkin on the table and leave. Or both.   
"Trish, is there someone else?" Matt was demanding, his voice rising a notch with each word he uttered, she realized in dismay.   
"No, of course not!" Trish exclaimed truthfully. And it _was_ the truth. If she really _was_ going out with Scott, she most certainly wouldn't have been stringing Matt along like that; it just wasn't like her. Juggling two lovers at the same time wasn't something her onscreen character wouldn't think twice about doing, but the real Trish Stratus--much like the real Stephanie McMahon--was far from the conniving bitch she portrayed on WWF television programming.   
"Then why did you call me Scott?" Matt wanted to know, sounding more hurt and upset than angry with her. "Do you want to go out with someone named Scott? Is that it?"   
Ouch, that was certainly close to the truth. Trish internally winced. Too close.   
"No, why would I want to date a Scott, when I have _you?"_ Trish lied, ignoring the guilty voices in her head arguing that she _did_ find herself often contemplating what a relationship with Scott Stapp would be like. She was pretty sure it wouldn't involve picking a catfight at a restaurant...unless that was something all men did when they suspected infidelity.   
"Well I don't know, why would you?" Matt retorted sarcastically, throwing down his napkin and mimicking her facial expressions. Trish realized with growing dismay that more and more couples at the restaurant were turning their attentions away from their food and their conversations, and toward the battle that was sure to explode at a certain table.   
"Matt, stop it!" she hissed, lowering both her head and her voice. "You're acting like a child, and you're causing a scene!"   
"I don't care!" Matt growled back fiercely. "I clobber people with steel chairs for no reason for a living, and you roll around in your lingerie for a living, so I'm pretty sure we're both quite comfortable by now with weird looks from strangers!"   
Trish was beginning to feel more irritated than worried, and her voice began to rise also as she snapped furiously, "What the hell do you mean I roll around in my lingerie for a living?! Granted, I may wrestle in the occasional T&A gimmick match every now and then, but that doesn't give you the right to talk about it as though I am a worthless piece of eye candy for perverted males with more raging hormones than an all-boys high school!"   
"Don't try to change the subject, Trish!" Matt shot back. "This isn't about our jobs, or the fact that you're considered a sex symbol in the sports entertainment world! Unless you've suddenly made up an imaginary friend named Scott, then there must be a reason far less innocent for you to be calling me by that name!"   
Trish stood up, throwing down her napkin onto the table as well with a vengeance.   
"You know what," she said, a furious scowl on her features, "I don't have to take any more of this crap. I'm leaving!"   
"Oh, no you're not!" Matt growled. Trish tightened her lips into a thin line.   
"What is it now?" she scorned. "You want us to leave together and argue in the cab on the way to the hotel?"   
"You know what, forget about you!" Matt nearly shouted. _"I'm_ leaving this dump!" And he threw down some money onto the table and stormed out of the restaurant without a second thought, leaving Trish standing behind amidst a sea of gaping eyes and open mouths.   
"Fine!" Trish yelled after her boyfriend, then turned to face the audience that herself and Matt had apparently attracted in the last couple of minutes.   
"Oh, quit your staring!" she scorned, sounding more tired than anything else. "Haven't you seen a couple fighting childishly at a bistro before?!" And she slammed down enough money to cover for her half of the check, and stalked out as well, walking into the cold, rainy sidewalk to hail a taxi and return to her hotel. Alone. 

* * *

_Another day, another house show,_ Trish thought to herself, as she pulled up at the arena and reluctantly got out of her rental car. Ever since the previous night where Matt had walked out on her at the restaurant, she'd been up all night, replaying that scene over and over in her head. And she'd suddenly realized that the particular cab ride back to her hotel room following that disastrous date, much like that time after the Monday Night Raw where she'd first met Scott and subsequently gotten stood up by Matt, wouldn't mark the first time she'd returned alone from after a WWF event. She hadn't been worrying unnecessarily before. Her relationship with Matt _was_ unraveling by the minute, and unless she didn't do something about it, said relationship would be nonexistent. But what about Scott...? 

At that moment, Molly Holly, who looked like she'd been searching specifically for someone, walked up to Trish. The newly-brunette WWF diva looked particularly upset, as she walked up to her blonde friend and said sympathetically, "Trish, I heard about what happened between you and Matt last night. I hope you're okay."   
"Huh?" Trish, lost in her thoughts, was confused by the words that were coming out of the petite young woman's mouth, then suddenly realized what Molly was saying and tried to brush it off like it was no big deal.   
"Oh, don't worry about me," the blonde bombshell murmured, sounding far more confident than she really felt. "I'll be all right."   
"Are you sure?" Molly looked uncertain. "I mean, especially after what happened between Lita and Shane Helms earlier this week...It seems as if Steph and Hunter are the only happy couple here in the World Wrestling Federation."   
"Yeah, well, you know," Trish murmured. "Hey, don't worry about me. I mean, I will survive through all this."   
"I know you will," Molly replied soothingly. "It's just that break ups can be so tough."   
Trish was barely registering what Molly was saying, as on the tip of her tongue she'd already prepared another string of meaningless reassurement.   
"Yeah, well, you know," she repeated lamely. "I mean, it's not like Matt and I weren't having problems in the first place...What?!"   
"Wow, you've been hanging around Stone Cold lately, haven't you?" Molly teased. Trish shook her head violently, as if to clear it.   
"What do you mean after what happened between Lita and Shane Helms and everything, break ups can be so tough?" she wanted, nearly throttling the petite brunette in her zeal as she fretted over Molly's words. The poor diva looked almost frightened by Trish's expression, as she stammered out, "Didn't you and Matt break up last night? At a restaurant or something?"   
Trish let go of Molly, as realization of what had happened suddenly settled in.   
"Oh, no," she moaned, and slowly sank onto the floor. Molly looked down in concern.   
"Trish? Are you all right?" she asked.   
"How...how did you find out about this?" Trish managed to ask weakly. Molly shrugged.   
"The headlines were splashed all over every single WWF news and rumors website," she replied. Trish buried her face in the palms of her hands.   
"Oh, my God, how could this have happened?" she lamented, more to herself than to Molly or anyone else who might have heard her. "How could this have happened?"   
"Trish, it's okay," Molly attempted to console her. "I mean, you couldn't--and really shouldn't--have kept that break up to yourself for very long, and..."   
"Molly, Matt and I never broke up last night," Trish finally said. "We had a fight at a very public place, and people who were there must have gone online and reported the whole thing, exaggerating the details and adding in speculation."   
"Oh," Molly still looked confused, then, as Trish's word's sank in, realization dawned upon her face. "Oh..." Her voice trailed off knowingly.   
"Yes," Trish said miserably. "And now that our 'break up' is splashed across every WWF webpage, Matt's going to think that I did that on purpose to get back at him or something, and break up with me for real!"   
Molly knelt down to Trish's level, and put one hand on the miserable Canadian's shoulder.   
"Trish," she asked, concern obvious in her voice, "are you going to be all right?" 

Just then, Stacy Keibler bounced over to the two petite women on the floor, a sunny smile on her pretty features.   
"Hi," she chirped brightly, trying to keep the happiness in her voice from seeping through as she bubbled, "I heard what happened between you and Matt, and I've got just the thing to cheer you up. Did you know that there's a Creed concert Friday night in Detroit, which is, like, practically walking distance from our house show there? Now, I know it's been sold out since, like, two months ago, but hey, if the rumors are true that halfway through the setlist _Scott Stapp"_--and she paused to wink--"is supposed to take his shirt off and wave it around, then believe you me, we're gonna find _some_ way to get into that concert if it's the last thing we do...!"   
"Stacy," Trish spoke up tiredly, "Matt and I never broke up."   
"...And you know how he always wears lace-up crotch leather pants onstage...What?" Stacy stopped abruptly amidst her ranting about how sexy a shirtless-and-leather-clad Scott Stapp was going to look up close. Apparently, Stone Cold's infamous one-word quote was becoming quite popular in the women's locker room, as Stacy paused to collect her thoughts, before realizing what Trish had just said.   
"What do you mean you and Matt didn't break up?" she whined, blinking rapidly. "I mean, it was all over the front page of every single damn WWF news site on the Internet, and..."   
"She and Matt didn't break up last night; it was just a public fight which got blown way out of proportion," Molly spoke up. Stacy huffed.   
"Well...great," she finally managed, plastering a great big fake smile on her face. And then an idea suddenly occurred to her, as the pretty blonde suddenly chirped, "Say, speaking of great, did you see this _Rolling Stone_ cover of Creed?" And she whipped out a magazine from behind her back.   
"See, there's Scott in the middle, wearing a sleeveless black tee and black leather pants," she bubbled happily. "Don't you just love his look? It's kind of like squeaky clean, with a dash of bad boy thrown in..."   
Trish, despite her earlier miseries about her relationship woes, could not help but crack a smile, not at the _Rolling Stone_ cover, but rather, at Stacy's antics.   
"Stacy, please." She rolled her eyes. "I've got to go change now. 'Bye, Molly." And she waved. Molly echoed her farewell, and Stacy, who'd been flipping frantically through the issue of _Rolling Stone_ to find the Creed article, dashed after her.   
"But look at this picture! Doesn't that pout emphasize his perfectly kissable lips...?" she hollered out after Trish. 

* * *

Trish exited the shower, a fluffy white towel wrapped tightly around her. The hard-fought match and subsequent hot shower had relaxed her enough to the point where she was slowly forgetting her mounting woes with her relationship with Matt, and just starting to enjoy her life and her work again. As she walked over to her suitcase to take out some clothes, Stacy popped out of seemingly nowhere, armed with apparently another magazine with Creed on the cover.   
"Hey, Trish, check this out," the pretty blonde urged, holding up an issue of _Guitar World_ to Trish's face. Trish looked, and had to admit that Scott looked even more handsome and soulful than she wanted to admit to herself.   
"Yeah, he's a real cute guy," Trish replied, trying to make her voice as nonchalant as possible. "But then again, so are the guitarist and drummer. What's your point?"   
Stacy looked horrified.   
"No!" she gasped. "You mean you're falling for the other two guys?"   
Trish rolled her eyes.   
"Stacy, please..." she started to say, before the former cheerleader cut her off.   
"Uh uh! Before you say anything else, let me tell you that one of them's married, and the other one's almost married, so they're both taken, whereas Scott's still on the market--although probably not for long," she shot in quickly. Trish arched her eyebrows.   
"Well, I didn't know that before, but thanks for clueing me in," she said cheerfully.   
"But look at _Scott!"_ Stacy whined. "See how cute he looks in that cowboy hat?" And she snapped her fingers. "There you go! You wear cowboy hats, and apparently, Scott does too every now and then. Just think of how cute you two would look, wearing your cowboy hats together!"   
Trish had to struggle hard to keep from laughing.   
"Well, then, Scott and I would like to welcome you by saying yipper-kah-whatever to you, Stacy," she teased, and prepared to dress into her street clothes. "By the way...since when did you start subscribing to _Guitar World?"_   
Stacy suddenly seemed fascinated by the floor tiles, as she coughed and fidgeted around, before finally squeezing out, "I stole this from Jericho--so don't tell on me, okay? Who knew Canadians could yell like banshees?" She suddenly caught Trish's look, and blushed. "I meant that in a good way. Now, if you will just pay attention to how sexy Scott looks in black..."   
Trish rolled her eyes. 

* * *

With the house show over and Stacy having run off to search for yet another magazine with Creed on the cover, Trish was free to leave the arena and head toward the parking lot. After the last few days, what with her bumping like mad at the hands of first Jazz, and then Lita, and with her relationship with Matt Hardy disappearing down the drain, Trish needed to indulge in room service and a warm, lily-scented bubble bath. She dug around her purse for her car keys, squinting under the harsh yellow artificial lights, her heels clicking hollowly on the cement. 

"Ah hah! What do you think of _this_ picture?"   
The shrill feminine voice popped out of nowhere, so suddenly that it startled Trish enough for the blonde Canadian to let out a high-pitched shriek--one that Stephanie would have been very proud of--and nearly fling her purse at the unseen speaker.   
"Well?" A grinning Stacy emerged into view, and Trish's heartbeat slowly returned to normal. As soon as it had, the blonde bombshell promptly started tearing into her fellow golden-haired diva.   
"What the hell was that?" Trish yelled in a high-pitched voice. Stacy looked confused, as if she had no idea why Trish was so mad at her.   
"What?" the pretty cheerleader-turned-diva wanted to know, smiling innocently. "Did I scare you?"   
Trish didn't know whether she wanted to slap Stacy or slap herself in frustration, before deciding that she didn't want to hurt her hand slapping either of them, and let the incident go. Stacy, meanwhile, was looking at her expectantly, as though waiting for an answer from her fellow diva.   
"Well? I didn't want to use my secret weapon, but you left me no choice," she chirped. "What do you think of this picture of Scott in some old edition of _SPIN_ magazine?"   
"Stacy, please, I already told you, I don't want to throw away my relationship with Matt to join the millions of women lusting after some sexy rock star, so if you would please just..." Trish began to say, not even bothering to look at the magazine picture. When she finally did, though, her eyes bulged out and her jaw dropped, and had she been in a Roadrunner cartoon, it would have dropped right to the floor, as all excuses for how she was really in love with Matt flew out of her brain. "...just...just...just...Give me that!"   
And Trish aggressively snatched the magazine away from a triumphantly grinning Stacy and peered at every detail.   
"See, I told you he looked good without his shirt on," Stacy gloated smugly. "Now, I had to dig for practically forever through Torrie's collection of _SPIN _to find this particular issue, so you better be grateful for all the trouble I've gone through to make you realize that the man you want really is Scott, and not Matt, and...and...and you're not listening to me one bit, are you?" Stacy pouted, placing her hands on her hips.   
"Sure I am," Trish mumbled distractedly. "You were saying how Torrie likes to spin around with Matt, and I should be grateful for all the trouble you've gone through for making me realize I want a collection of Scott magazines."   
Stacy huffed.   
"Trish, will you quit drooling over that picture and listen to me?" she whined. 

Trish, meanwhile, had tuned out Stacy's words, paying absolutely zero attention. _Wow, he's gorgeous, _she thought to herself, feeling like a schoolgirl with a celebrity crush all over again. _And he's not just attractive, but he's also a genuinely nice, funny person,_ she went on silently, remembering the feature article on Creed from the _Rolling Stone_ she'd secretly read while Stacy was away, digging through Chris Jericho's excessive collection of shiny plaid pants for the particular issue of _Guitar World_ with a cowboy-hat-wearing Scott Stapp kneeling on the cover. _And...and...and I am starting to see all the reasons Matt has for being upset with me,_ Trish suddenly realized. _What am I doing?_ she thought in dismay, while in the background, Stacy's voice continued to bubble on and on. _Here I am, telling myself that I can still build a relationship with Matt, and then I turn around and try to convince myself that an eight-month-long relationship is worth throwing away just to ogle a rock star. _Trish shook her head, as if to clear it.   
"Here you go, Stace," she said, thrusting the issue of _SPIN_ back into a startled Stacy's hands. "You'd better give this back to Torrie."   
Stacy's jaw dropped.   
"You mean...my secret weapon didn't work?" she asked in a tiny voice. Trish wore a grim smile on her face.   
"Oh, it worked, all right," she murmured to herself, starting to walk away to find her rental car. "In fact, it worked too well, and now I'm off to try and reconcile with Matt."   
Stacy huffed.   
"Fine, you do that," she grumbled. A light seemed to go off in her head moments later, though, when she uttered the words that stopped Trish dead in her tracks.   
"But, in case you've forgotten," Stacy called out after the blonde Canadian's disappearing back. "Next week's Monday Night Raw is going to be held in Orlando. You know, the same city where both you _and_ Scott Stapp live?" 


End file.
